


The Ballet Rats and The Mouse

by Mertens



Series: Rat AU [5]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Ballet, Christine is a literal mouse, Erik is a literal rat, Feels, Gen, Mouse AU, Rat AU, Sad Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertens/pseuds/Mertens
Summary: Tiny mouse Christine Daaé loves being part of the ballet corps of the Paris Opera with all the human girls, and they love her, too... Right?
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Series: Rat AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626601
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	The Ballet Rats and The Mouse

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after The Opera Rat Really Did Exist ans before Adventures in Ratkeeping.

The little bauble shone as it caught the light, laying forgotten the floor of the hallway. Christine ran over to it, her tail wiggling. It was a pearl earring that Meg had dropped, not even realizing, but there was nothing for her to worry about — her friend Christine always had her back. 

Christine picked up the earring with her teeth and scampered back to the dressing rooms with it, carefully climbing Meg’s dresser to leave the earring where the girl would see it. Her task completed, she ran back to the ballet practice room as fast as she could. She did not want to miss practice. There was a show coming up! 

She felt lucky when the ballet mistress didn’t notice her absence. Sometimes when a girl was missing, Madame Giry would scold her on the importance of being on time. Christine hoped Madame wasn’t going easy on her because she was friends with her daughter. 

She turned her attention to the mirror at the front of the room, squinting her little eyes, trying her best to see herself even though the mirrored wall was so far away and blurry. All the ballet girls watched themselves in the mirrors, and so Christine did too, even if she couldn’t see much from her place at the back of the room. 

The girls did their demi pliés in time to the music, and Christine did the same, lowering herself on all fours, her knees and arm joints bent so her belly almost touched the floor, and then bent so that she did touch the floor on her grande pliés. Halfway through she tried to stand on her hind legs and only bend her knees, but she almost fell over so she went back to all fours. 

The girls held their arms up in fifth position and stretched forwards and backwards, striking graceful poses, and Christine stretched her own back out as best she could. 

She stretched out her legs as they stretched on the barre, and when they did their centre work she joined them, sometimes spinning in tiny circles for pirouettes, sometimes running and leaping for grande jettes, sometimes tapping her little paws on the ground for bourrés. 

Soon it was time for a break, and as the girls all flopped to the floor and stretched their side splits and front splits and various other stretches, Christine crept closer and stretched her whole body out on the floor, relaxing her tired muscles. 

Emma, in the midst of pulling a snack out of her bag, didn’t notice that a ribbon had fallen out. Christine noticed, her whiskers twitching. Emma would need that ribbon for her shoes. Christine got up and ran over to Emma’s bag, picking up the ribbon and putting it back inside. Emma didn’t thank her. Emma didn’t even notice. But that was okay, Christine didn’t mind. That’s what friends were for! And Christine was friends with all the ballet girls. She was one of them! 

She came and flopped back down near Lise, listening to the story the older girl was telling. It was full of words she didn’t really understand and mentioned people that Christine didn’t even know, but the girls were all laughing, so Christine laughed too, tiny little squeaks no one else could hear, then she ground her teeth together happily and boggled her eyes. 

She loved being part of the group, being like them. Even when she didn’t quite know what all was going on, she still felt a sense of camaraderie with them all. How wonderful it was to be part of a group! And what a group! She loved each of the girls, though Meg was her favorite. She was certain, too, that the girls loved her as well. 

After the break they finished their practice, Christine’s brow furrowing in concentration. There were so many steps to remember, and she often had to look to the other girls to be reminded of what came next. But Madame Giry never had to correct her, so she assumed she was doing something right. 

When practice was over Madame Giry called them all together to give them a pep talk about the upcoming performance. Christine came in close too, staying mindful of where everyone’s feet were. She looked up at Madame Giry, her ears attentive and her eyes focused as best they could. 

“Take care of yourselves, as always,” Madame said gracefully. “We do not want any injuries before the show. Get plenty of sleep, and drink your water. I expect you all to be here an hour early tomorrow for costume fitting.”

With that, she tapped her cane on the floor and dismissed them. The girls scampered off, thanking Madame and the piano player as they left. Christine chirped at Madame and bowed, then ran up to the man at the piano and did the same thing. Christine noted that he must have been shy, because he kept his eyes lowered to the leaves of sheet music that he was gathering up, too bashful to acknowledge her in any way. It was a shame, she thought — he was a wonderful musician — he had nothing to be shy about. 

She hurried to catch up with the girls, and she made it to the dressing rooms just after they did. One of the girls had received a box of cookies as a birthday present, and she opened it up to share with her classmates. Cookies were passed around and enjoyed, and Lise was kind enough to drop a few pieces for Christine. Lise was always so considerate, Christine thought. She never liked to make a big deal out of anything, either. Even now she nonchalantly played off sharing the cookie. Christine thanked her with a tail wiggle and crept closer, listening to their chatter as she munched on the delicious cookie piece. 

“Oh! My earring!” Meg suddenly groaned, feeling her ears.

“What’s wrong?” another girl asked. 

“I lost it,” Meg frowned. “I know I put it on this morning... Oh, I can’t believe it, and they were expensive, too!”

“Is that it on your vanity table?” Lise nodded towards the earring Christine had placed there. 

“It is! What on earth?” Meg picked up the earring and examined it. “But I’m certain I was wearing it when I left this room.”

“Maybe you dropped it and someone picked it up?”

“But who?” 

“You know, this has been happening to me too!” a different girl chimed in. “I’ve been so forgetful lately — but little things I’d thought I’d lost have all been turning up in places I know I’ve looked before.”

“Oh, me too!” said someone else. 

“Maybe there’s a friendly ghost!” Meg laughed. 

The girls giggled. 

“Do you think he’s handsome?” 

“Ugh!”

Christine crinkled her nose and laughed with them. They were so funny! Ah, but they didn’t even realize it was her! That was okay, she didn’t mind. She was their friend, just like how they were her friends, and friends did things for each other without needing recognition. 

“What if it’s a mouse?” Lise teased. 

“Oh gross!” Meg shrieked. “That would be so disgusting, ew!”

She shuddered and grimaced, the other girls all squealing at the thought of a disgusting mouse touching any of their belongings. 

Christine’s smile disappeared. Ew? Gross? 

The girls continued laughing and chattering, but Christine couldn’t even hear it. All she could hear was her friend — was _Meg_ — saying those cruel words that cut her like a knife. 

_Disgusting!_

Her cookie didn’t taste good anymore, and where she once felt warm and accepted, she suddenly felt like an interloper and terribly out of place. 

She realized she wasn’t wanted, and no amount of offers of friendship on her part would ever change that. She would always be gross to them. 

She left the cookie on the floor and slunk away, into the hole in the floorboard and through the maze in the walls until she came to the room she was looking for. 

Up there on the table was a large, ornate dollhouse, and she quickly climbed the table leg and ran inside. 

Erik was here, she knew because she could smell his scent, but he must have been busy in one of the other rooms. She went to the living room and curled up in a little ball, wrapping her tail around herself. She bruxed her teeth, hoping to distract herself from the dirty names running through her head. She was not gross. A tear slid down her furry cheek. 

“Ahh, Christine!” Erik said warmly, suddenly appearing from around the corner. “You are home! How was ballet practice, my dear?”

“It was okay,” she lied. 

She didn’t want to tell Erik what had happened. She knew she was blessed to be quite lovely for a mouse, and there no way around the fact that Erik was unfortunately quite ugly for a rat, and so she knew that if she told him that she had been called disgusting by the girls that he would feel insulted as well. Besides, Erik could have a terrible temper, and even though she was incredibly hurt right now, she didn’t want Erik to seek revenge on her friends. 

“Was it?” he asked, uncertain. 

“Where you writing a new song?” she asked, not looking at him and wanting to change the subject. 

“Oh yes — one just for you!” 

He smiled a big smile at her, his hairless face wrinkling and baring the two lone teeth in his mouth. 

“May I hear it?” she asked politely. 

“Of course, of course! It is yours, after all,” he chuckled, and she followed him to his music room, which was a room filled with tiny musical instruments, all of which bafflingly didn’t work. 

He sang the song for her several times until she began to memorize it — she could not read, and thus could not read the little scribbles he had written down on the tiny pieces of paper that he held in his paws. But soon she picked up the words and the tune, and began to sing it back to him. 

As she sang, she could see all the love in the world shining in Erik’s red eyes. He loved her so. To him she could never be gross. It made her feel slightly better. She would see Raoul soon, too — in two days there would be another show, and he would come to watch it, and she would meet him in the hallway were she always did. He would pick her up and smile, and maybe he would place a kiss on the top of her head. Sometimes that made her panic, to have a face that close to her and to be kissed by a mouth that was definitely big enough to eat her, but right now she thought it would be nice to be reminded that she wasn’t gross or disgusting just because of what she was. 

Did her maestro ever feel that way? That the whole world thought him nasty? It made her heart ache. How could he bear it? She barely could. 

Had the girls been joking? It was a mean joke. Did they really hate her? Had she not realized? Would they think her an exception to what they thought of most mice? She didn’t want to be an exception, but she also didn’t want to be hated. 

She wasn’t a ballet girl after all, it seemed. They didn’t consider her one of them, even though she had. Would they scream “ew gross” to Meg? To Lise? No, of course not. But Christine — kind, sweet, helpful Christine — was apparently disgusting to them. 

“Christine!” Erik exclaimed. “You’re crying!”

“I’m sorry Erik,” she said, wiping her paws across her eyes. “Your music is just so beautiful. I was overcome.”

“Not as beautiful as Christine,” he said, his voice dreamy. 

“Do you mean it?”

“Erik always means it,” he said, solemn. “Christine is the most beautiful thing Erik has ever, ever seen.”

She looked down and blinked away the rest of her tears. 

“Thank you, Erik.”

That night she curled up in her bed in Erik’s house and tried to get some sleep. It was a strange feeling, to know everything had changed. Perhaps one day she’d be able to move past their comments, to give them the benefit of the doubt that they hadn’t really meant it. But not right now. Right now the pain was still too fresh. 

At least one thing hadn’t changed, and didn’t seem like it would ever change. Erik still loved her and thought she was wonderful. Even now she could hear him humming a song in the other room, a comforting tune that she knew he was humming for her sake because he could tell she was upset about something. She was so thankful for him, even if he was a rather odd fellow. 

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, an a tear lingering in her cheek. Maybe she wouldn’t do ballet anymore, but she would always have her singing and her Erik.


End file.
